


The Coward Left (the Hungry Ghosts remix)

by Quillori



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, PGP, Vila POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:11:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori
Summary: After Gauda Prime, Vila remembers the ones who didn't survive.





	The Coward Left (the Hungry Ghosts remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Coward Left](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552142) by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris). 



There’s a little ritual I like to do, a sort of observance if you like. Some people light candles, or burn tokens, or build up little piles of stone. Still, it would be a funny old world if we all did the same thing. It’s probably the counting that’s important anyway, not what you use to count with. So. Another day over, more or less, and here we are again, counting.

One. That’s for Gan. Great guy. I don’t suppose you knew him. I knew him, though. I could hardly help it, could I? He was always there, that was the thing about him. I don’t mean he made a fuss, or pushed his company on you. But he was always somewhere in the background, and when you needed him, you could rely on him. You can’t say that about many people, can you? Never wanted anything in return, either. Never wanted much of anything, really. Just a solid, reliable guy, who was always there. Until he wasn’t, but we don’t need to talk about that.

Two. That’s for Cally. It’s a good thing I don’t go for candles or tokens. I think she’s had enough of burning. But Cally is a good memory. She used to sing, sometimes, not just out loud like anyone might, but in your head. Maybe that’s a thing all telepaths do, like humming under your breath while you work. (Mind you, that can get to be a bad habit, depending what sort of work you do. I try to avoid it myself.) But it was so pretty, and nice not to be alone in your own head for once. Everything about her was pretty, pretty but strong. She was always so determined about everything, so certain she was right. More certain than Blake, in a way: I can imagine him lying awake at nights, doubting himself, but not Cally. 

I’m not boring you, am I? It’s just that when you remember people, it’s like they’re still here. As long as I’m remembering them, they aren’t quite dead. Or I don’t have to admit they’re dead, one or the other. Anyway, where was I?

Three. That’s for Blake. I’m sure you know Blake. Or not know, but know of. He’s a hero, a real, proper hero, who should get a statue somewhere, and things named after him. But he wasn’t just a hero, you know, he was a person, a friend, someone you could have a laugh with, if he was in the mood for it. Someone who tried to do the right thing, most of the time. Someone you wouldn’t mind following.

Now four, that’s for Tarrant. I can’t say I liked him. Isn’t that an awful thing to say, after everything? Not much of an epitaph. And he deserves something better. I could tell you he was brave: he’d like that, and it’s even true. Maybe I’d have liked him better if he’d had time to grow up. Maybe he’d have been a different person, when he wasn’t being the young hotshot anymore. It’s a big galaxy out there, and trying to be the best and the most dashing and the most untouchable must get lonely after a while. Maybe if he hadn’t been so brave, he’d have given it up earlier, and settled down somewhere with a nice girl and a steady job piloting freighters. Maybe he’d … well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? He was young, and brave, and a good pilot, and if you’re anywhere you can hear me, Tarrant, don’t say I’m not doing right by your memory.

Five. That’s for Soolin. It’s funny. Tarrant thought he was the best thing ever, you could see it in everything he did. But Soolin acted like she really was, without having to think about it at all. She was quite perfect, all the time, at everything she did, without needing anyone’s help, or needing anything at all, really. Maybe it would have spoilt her perfection to want things? You start wanting things, that’s when everything goes wrong. And the more you want them, the worse it gets. But she didn’t want anything, not enough to let it trouble her. She can’t have liked Dorian, and there was that thing of his, and what he planned to do … but she worked for him, quite calmly, same as she worked with us. Never seriously wanted anything at all. Just like Gan.

Did I tell you what Gan was like? A great guy. A really great guy. He had a nice girl, and a steady job, and all. Used to have. He didn’t want anything. Of course he didn’t, what was there left for him to want? Except he wanted to keep it. That’s never a good idea, you can take my word for it. I’ve seen it again, and again, and again. But I didn’t know him back then, and he didn’t know any better, so he wanted to keep this girl of his safe, and then he wanted to hurt the people who’d hurt her, and then he wanted to have her back, and his life back, and he couldn’t, because she was dead. And do you know who hurt her? It was everyone, really, the whole world. That’s how it works. See, it might only be one or two people who were actually there, but everyone else was to blame too, for letting it happen, for not caring enough afterwards, for not being able to fix anything. He was very decent about it, but that’s the way it was.

But we weren't going to talk about any of that.

So. Six. That’s for Dayna. She was young too, but much nicer about it. It was good to have someone so enthusiastic about the place. She had hobbies, you know. Blowing things up is a hobby, right? The rest of us were just trying to survive, and she’d be making things, and testing them, and trying to learn to shoot as fast as Soolin. Not because it was her job, the way it was Soolin’s, but just because she wanted to, for fun. I can still see the two of them practicing together, like sisters.

Cally had sisters. Used to have. I think she heard them die. Better to be alone in your own head than hear that. Or maybe not. I don’t think she liked knowing afterwards that she’d always be alone in there for the rest of her life? But it’s not a nice thing to hear, someone dying like that. It echoes. 

I never really understood Cally and her sisters. If she cared about them so much, why did she let herself get exiled? You know, when Blake found her, she was going to blow herself up? All that determination, all that willpower, and in the end, it was all about destroying herself. Like a fire that burns until it burns out. Well, she managed in the end. Sticking with us was slower than a pack of explosives, but that’s all you can say for it.

Maybe that’s what Blake saw in her, that fire. He didn’t have any of his own. No, I know that sounds strange. Blake was the hero, and heroes have fire, and charisma, and drive. But he didn’t, not the way you’re thinking. The thing was, he was just a name, and a reputation, and some memories he couldn’t be sure were even his. He’d go for days at a time, behaving quite normally, just as you’d expect him to behave, but then something would give him away, and you’d see behind it he didn’t know who he really was, not for sure. And then he’d throw himself harder into the cause, into being Blake, trying to make himself back into the person he used to be, even though he didn’t remember who that had been. A shell of a man. A nice shell, a good shell you’d be happy to have a drink with, if you picked the right moment, a shell who could lead a revolution (not a successful revolution - that's another awful thing to say. True, though.). But something fundamentally empty. Drive, charisma, whatever you call it, none of it came from fire, not the way it did with Cally, it came from being this vast emptiness that was desperate to be filled. He'd let the entire galaxy could burn to cinders if it let him pretend he was certain who he was.

Seven. That’s for Jenna. She seemed such a sensible woman. Looking back, why did she never see through Blake? She never saw through Cally, either. There was something about her, I think (I’ve thought about it a lot): she was restless, somehow. Never quite happy with what she had, even when she knew rationally that she should be. For a sensible woman, she never liked paying the price for things. She wanted to be a free trader, but she rejected the people she would have to do business with. She wanted to defy the Federation, but escape the consequences. She wanted a life of comfort, but she wanted to believe there was more to life than just comfort. Every time she got what she said she wanted, she found something new to want. And Blake was perfect for her. So long as she wanted him and his cause, she could keep on wanting, with no risk of getting it and being dissatisfied.

But she was a brilliant pilot. You should have seen her when she forgot about everything else, like she was part of the ship, or it was part of her. Brilliant, golden-haired Jenna, who could have flown rings around Tarrant, who loved flying for its own sake, not just for the thrill, in a way he never would. She should just have kept flying, on and away into the distance. But she was such a practical woman, and she thought if she was dissatisfied with life, there must be some way she could do something to make it better. 

Now we're at eight. I don’t like doing this one. It’s hard to swallow, somehow. But it’s the last, and it wouldn’t be right to skip it. So, this one’s for you, you bastard. I wish you were still here to have it with me. I wish you hadn’t wanted to be a hero. I wish you could have been the hero you wanted to be.

You know, when I think about it, Jenna never really saw through me either. Maybe there was nothing to see. I don’t want things the way they all did, not enough to live on in other people’s heads. I can't remember the last time I wanted anything grander or more consuming than an excuse for another drink.


End file.
